That evening, Schiller drove to Gotham Airport. It had been renovated three years ago. Although the overall layout had not changed, at least it no longer looked quite so run-down.
He went to the arrivals corridor and saw a little boy being led by two flight attendants: short black hair, slightly reddish skin, small freckles around his nose, uneven tan lines on his neck, and a red sweater with a fake shirt collar. He was much sturdier than most children his age.
"Hello, are you Billy Batson?"
Schiller took out his driver's license and handed it to the flight attendants. Only after checking it repeatedly did they hand Billy over to him.
Throughout the whole process, the little boy kept his head raised, staring at Schiller without saying anything. He looked somewhat timid, yet he could not stop looking around.
After the flight attendants left, Schiller patted his head and guided him closer by the shoulders. Then he crouched in front of him and said, "Are you Batson? From Wisconsin?"
Billy nodded, opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. You're the professor Dick told me about?"
"Yes. Schiller Rodriguez. Nice to meet you." Schiller held out a hand.
Billy looked at that hand, licked his lips, then reached out and gave it a light shake.
"What's wrong?" Schiller asked. "Dick told me you were a very lively child. Why do I get the feeling you're a little scared?"
"I... I've never flown before." Billy pinched the seams of his pants with both hands, glancing to one side. "And it's my first time in a big city."
Schiller sighed. "The flight attendants told me you were a bit rowdy. You didn't think about flying straight out during the flight, did you?"
Billy looked at Schiller with